


you must remember this

by laskofresho



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Manipulation, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 15:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laskofresho/pseuds/laskofresho
Summary: “You could’ve just made me come back.”“Yeah,” said Rick. “Yeah, I could’ve.”





	you must remember this

**Author's Note:**

> this was written before the air date of S03E08. god bless dan harmon and justin roiland for the toxic rick episode

The second the doors to the ship closed around them, Morty was on edge. He forced a smile onto his face, looking over at Rick in the driver’s seat as he put on his seatbelt. His face faded quickly as he realized Rick wasn’t paying attention, just starting the ship, taking them up without any preamble. His grandfather reached into his lab coat for his flask, leaning back as he lazily steered, his face unreadable. 

“G-gee, Rick,” Morty started, uncomfortable with the silence, “I guess everything’s back to the w-way it was. Y’know, adventuring and stuff, just you and me, haha.”

Ever since the parts of himself been put back together like some kind of slime-encrusted nesting doll, Rick had been acting different. He was more distant in ways, but he almost never physically left him alone. It was nice to finally have some kind of confirmation that Rick actually cared about him, on some level, but on the other hand, it was getting a little, well, overwhelming. 

Still. He glanced at his grandfather, who didn’t look back. “I missed this.”

No response.

He turned to look out the window as they hurtled out towards space, hanging onto the seat when Rick went a little too hard on the throttle. He was more than used to Rick’s driving, but this seemed almost purposeful. He swung a hard right around an asteroid, throwing Morty, the seatbelt digging into his chest.

“R-Rick?” Morty mumbled, “Is something up?”

“I don’t know, Morty, you— _eeurrp_ — you tell me.”

Morty frowned. “Um… I’m not following, Rick.”

“Of course you aren’t _following_ , Morty, you couldn't follow a step-by-step guide on how to breathe oxygen.” He took a deep chug on his flask, before reaching out to slap Morty on the chest. The grin he turned on him was positively distressing. “What I mean is that you’re not a pathetic _virgin_ anymore, Mortyyyyy! What’s fucked cannot be unfucked, bay-beee!”

His face went scarlet. He attempted to knock Rick’s hand away, but his fingers curled into his shirt, dragging him closer. “Come on, Rick! Cut it out.”

“Wh-wh-what, Morty, you’re trying to act like you didn’t wet your tiny dick for the first time in that slutty redhead in your apartment?”

There was an edge to it. Morty stared forward, feeling the neck of his shirt start to cut into the line of his neck, where Rick was hanging on hard, like he wasn’t going to let go again.

“Jacqueline's not a slut,” said Morty, uneasily. He gently untangled Rick’s hand from his shirt, sitting back in his seat. He seemed to relax as Morty started talking. “I don’t know, I guess? It was me but it wasn’t, like, _me_ so I don’t know does it really actually count?”

“What, you still _want_ to be a pathetic virgin?” Rick’s hands settled back on the wheel.

“No,” he said, defensively. “No way.”

“Jesus, Morty, stop being such a pussy about it. I wanna hear all the details.”

“Really?” 

“Morty, I’m not gonna judge you if you totally sucked at it. You gotta tell me that yo— _ourgh_ —u at least— at least— got off in her a few times. And please tell me you wrapped your dick this time. You’re already a father to one illegitimate alien child, and we both know how that turned out.”

Morty hunched in on himself, self-conscious. “S-she said she was on birth control.”

Rick turned to look at him, brow raised. “So you creampied her?”

His face felt so hot he was almost sweating. “Y-yeah.”

“Wh-wh-what are you being so fucking coy about? I’m not gonna judge ya, Morty, I know how good it feels to blow your load and watch it drip out of a well-fucked hole.”

Morty squirmed in his seat. Rick never held back around him talking about his own sexual exploits or even engaging in them nearby, but somehow applying it to himself, that they were talking about _him_ made him want to curl up and die. It also made him a little excited, if he was being honest with himself.

“It felt good. Really good. But I don’t know, I just— it’s just that I always thought my first time would be with Jessica, I guess.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t know,” he mumbled, “Jacqueline had been with a lot of guys already, and like, she was _experienced_ , but it kinda feels like it was… I don’t know, less special? They say you always remember your first.”

“Morty, virginity is just a social construct perpetuated by religious dogma to oppress and control the sexual reproduction of the species. There is nothing special about you using or not using your dick.”

“I guess I never… thought about it that way, Rick. Jeez.”

The whole experience had been strange. Now, with the two parts of his psyche rejoined, it felt like it had almost happened to someone else entirely. The version of him that had sex with Jacqueline hadn’t been _him_. At least not entirely.

It had scared him, a little, how out of control of his own body he felt. He knew that control was all an illusion, that the universe was a confusing and terrible place, but it didn’t make it any less unnerving that he was capable of all of that without the parts that made him _him_. He curled in himself. Rick probably thought he was a pussy. Hoping that the conversation was over, he stayed quiet, watching the stars go by.

“Jesus, Morty,” Rick started, in the silence. “I would’ve thought that the second you managed to make some girl feel sorry enough to sleep with you, I wouldn’t be able to shut you up about it.”

Morty stared out the dirty windshield, his stomach twisting. “I don’t know, Rick, I guess I feel kinda— I mean, she was so much older than me.”

“That’s your big fu— _uughh_ —cking hang-up about this? Not because you fucked her under false pretenses, because she’s too _old_ for you?”

“Well, it’s— it was kinda illegal, wasn’t it?”

“Morty, how many lightyears have we traveled together? How many— how many dimensions have I taken you to? Your body might be fourteen, and all the sexual hangups that entails, but you’ve seen more in your meagre little existence than most people will _ever_ see in their lifetime. Hell, in a _hundred_ lifetimes. Who the fuck cares about what’s _legal?_ Or moral? I sure fucking don’t, and if you’ve learned anything at all with me, you shouldn’t either.”

He looked over at Rick cautiously, but Rick stared resolutely ahead. He only reached into his lab coat for his flask, undoing the cap and tipping it back into his mouth. Morty turned away, his mind starting to run away with him.

They’d been to so many dimensions. They’d stopped time for six months, traveled to the corners of the galaxy together. He hadn’t grown an inch. He curled his hands into fists on his lap. They were still small and childish, even if he didn’t feel that young, anymore.

“H-hah, yeah,” he mumbled, his nails digging into his palms, “You’re r-right, Rick.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m always right,” continued Rick, grinning as he gestured with his flask, “On that note, you gotta tell me, Morty— did the carpet match the drapes? She a firecrotch?”

“She waxed,” he answered, unthinking. He blinked, realizing what had come out of his mouth so easily. “So, uh, I— I don’t know.”

“Were her nipples, like, small, tight, and pale— y’know, those little ginger nips? Summer doesn’t have ‘em.”

He pulled a face. “Man, that’s gross, Rick. I don’t want to talk about my sister like that.”

“Yeah, she’s not really worth talking about in that department, am I right? Sure didn’t take after your mom,” he said, waving his hand. “That chick, though— Jacqueline, she had a fantastic rack on her.”

“Yeah, her boobies were pretty awesome.” He leaned forward, kicking his heels a little. It felt kind of nice to have something to brag about, for once, having Rick be interested in his life. “They felt real, too. I mean, they weren’t, but, still cool.” 

Rick pulled a face. “Was that your favorite part, Morty? Playing with her tits? Jesus, you really are a teenage boy.”

“No! I really—” He bowed his head, shy, “I really liked kissing her, too.”

“Oh yeah, you liked kissing her? Or _kissing_ her.”

“Huh?”

“Jesus, you’re stupid. I’m asking if you ate her out, dummy.” He took another drink, his tongue sliding along the bottom of his flask. Alcohol leaked out of his mouth as he lowered the flask, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So come on, tell me— did— did you lick her box? Get your tongue all— all up inside of her?”

The ship tilted a little, Rick quickly righting it with the palm of one hand. Morty kept his eyes steady, approximating that Rick was starting to toe the line of being seriously intoxicated. 

“Morty.”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, I did.”

“So, what— did you like it?”

“It was okay, I guess? I liked making her feel good, but um, ‘healthy’ me was kinda— I didn’t do it that much. She liked, um, we did o-other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he pressed. “You wanna expand on that a little?”

“Well, I took her out to dinner, and we went to—”

“Morty. The point. Get to it.”

“God, this is so embarrassing,” said Morty, covering his face with his hands. “I-I-I don’t know, Rick, we mostly just— _did it.”_

“Did _it_.” Rick snorted, reaching across the seats to grab Morty’s shoulder. “Come on— use your big boy words, dumb-dumb.” He gave him a good shake for motivation.

Rick’s hand was hot through the fabric of his t-shirt, his fingers digging in. He could feel Rick looking at him, not looking where he was driving at all as they headed straight into an asteroid belt. 

“Rick! Watch where you’re going!” 

He kept staring at him, his eyes darkening. “Say it, Morty.”

“Say wh— _Rick!”_

“Tell me— tell— what did you do with her?”

“Jesus Christ, Rick, can you watch where you’re going!?” He pulled his knees up against his body, bracing for impact.

“Morty, you better answer me if you know what’s good for you.”

“I fucked her, okay!” he snapped. “Wha-wh-what the hell do you think we did!?” 

He could feel sweat starting under his arms as they flew closer. He could practically see the individual ridges of the rock. Rick had to be messing with him, had to be trying to set him off, would pull them out of danger before it got too close.

But Rick was just staring at him. His mouth was open, saliva dribbling down his chin, his eyes dark and unfocused. He wasn’t speaking. He wasn’t doing anything aside from breathing hard, his teeth bared. Rick was staring at him, and he was scaring him, and they were going to die.

Morty strained to reach over for the wheel, but Rick grabbed his wrist, keeping him at arm’s length. The ship started to shake as it hit turbulence, barreling straight for the belt, bits of rock bouncing off the metal frame. Rick was steering with his knee, not paying attention, his lip curling back as stared down at him.

They hurtled closer and closer, Morty’s entire body filling with tension, his fingers flexing and straining as his eyes went wide.

“Rick, I-I-I had sex with her, and I liked it, it was fine, it was _good_ , it was— I don’t know why I feel so weird about it and— and— I’m sorry if I upset you somehow and— and— and can you _PLEASE JUST DRIVE!!! AAAAAH—”_

Rick swerved hard. They floated listlessly for a few moments, Rick casually sipping from his flask while Morty struggled to pull himself back together in the passenger seat.

Dragging his hands down his face, Morty moaned. His eyes were burning. “Rick, what— w-w-what the hell, man!?”

“What?” Rick said, glibly. “You didn’t piss your pants again, did you?”

For some reason, that had Morty gritting his teeth, furious. Rick had gotten them into danger again, just to act flippant about it, like nothing had happened. 

“Is— is this a— a _jealousy_ thing!?” he shouted. “Are you jealous!? Is that why you’re acting this way!?”

“Wha— why the hell would I be jealous, Morty?” he said, a little too fast, “I’ve gotten way hotter pussy than that— that bimbo you fucked. Poorly, by the sounds of it.”

He sniffed, wiping the angry tears from his eyes that had gathered without him noticing. “N-not jealous of me, Rick! Jealous of _her.”_

It came out more harshly than he’d intended. Still, the words raced through his mind. _Irrational attachment._ As he stared at his grandfather’s twisted expression, the absence of a response, the more things started to come together for him. 

Morty sat back in his seat, turning his head forward almost mechanically. Rick finished off the last of his flask, tossing it listlessly into the back of the ship. It pinged against the metal before settling, and Rick’s hands were back on the wheel, steering them back on track.

The silence was overbearing. Morty opened and closed his mouth a few times, the words dying in his chest. 

“Rick, I-I-I didn’t—”

“Enough,” he said, “Adventure’s over, Morty. Congratulations, you ruined it.”

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the trip back.

* * *

He actually got to bed on time for the first night in over a month. Mom even came in and kissed him goodnight, wine on her breath and her mascara smudged beneath her eyes. For some reason, it felt wrong in a way that it hadn’t, before.

Laying there in the darkness, he sighed. Morty got up onto an elbow, checking his phone. He’d been lying awake for hours. He thought about masturbating to try to trick his brain into turning off, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it with the thoughts currently circulating in his head. Thoughts that felt like they didn’t belong to him.

He rolled over onto his side, frowning at the wall. Rick had been wasted by the time they’d gotten back, but had ignored any of his efforts to help him to his room. He half-wondered if he should go down and check on him, make sure he hadn’t collapsed face-down at his workbench. The house was quiet. Everybody else was likely asleep.

Morty clenched his eyes shut. Don’t go downstairs. Rick had made it clear he wanted space. Besides, if he went downstairs, it might mean letting out something he couldn’t put back. 

He drew in a breath. He pushed himself up to his forearm, just as his door creaked open, the light bleeding in from the hall. 

His grandfather slipped into his room, silent as death. He shut the door gently behind him. Morty laid back down, pressing his back up against the wall as Rick approached, hanging over his bed like a shadow. He didn’t know if he was about to get a knife to the throat, or worse.

The mattress dipped with Rick’s weight as he sat down, Morty looking up to his face. He was definitely drunk, but his expression seemed restrained.

His breath jumped in his throat as Rick reached over, brushing his hair back off his forehead. He stayed absolutely still as Rick’s fingers grazed his cheek, before sliding down to cup his shoulder, almost like it was the only thing holding him upright.

Morty reached a hand upward to brace him, curling tight around Rick’s forearm. 

“Rick— what—”

Rick didn’t answer him. He was almost never quiet. He always had something to say. His silence left a gaping void in the room, and it felt like it was dragging him in.

“I-I-I know you could’ve found me on your own,” Morty murmured. “You could’ve just made me come back.”

“Yeah,” said Rick. “Yeah, I could’ve.”

But he hadn’t. Ricks didn’t care about Mortys. It was just the way things were.

“Y-y-you’re a good boy, Morty,” Rick said, his words slurring together. He leaned heavier, Morty forcing himself to sit up to keep him from collapsing over. “I know you’ve seen— you’ve seen a lot of shit ‘cause of me.”

“Come on, Rick,” he mumbled, sliding Rick’s arm over his shoulder. He started shifting to pull him off the bed. “It’s okay, you’re just— you’re drunk. L-l-let’s get you back to your room, and—”

His back landed flat on the bed, knocking the wind out of him as Rick landed heavily on top of him. He didn’t move, as Rick laid his body over him, Morty sucking in a tight, shaky breath as Rick’s hands wrapped around his wrists, holding him down.

“Rick, please— please will you just get up so we— so this—”

“I’m gonna— I’m gonna ruin you, Morty.”

He flexed his wrists in Rick’s hold, anxiety flaring low in the pit of his belly. He tried not to breathe through his nose, the smell of alcohol and engine grease permeating his senses. “Rick, get— get off me.” 

Rick’s face dipped down close to his, the stubble on his cheek rough against his own, still irritatingly baby soft and smooth. He shifted, Rick’s mouth grazing the corner of his own. “Morty—”

_“Get the fuck off me!”_

He jolted, managing to startle his grandfather enough to loose his grip. Morty shoved him off to the side. He sat upright, pulling his knees to his chest, huddling in on himself. After a moment, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand until his lips were raw.

Rick sprawled out beside him, a leg sliding off the edge of the bed. He started laughing, Morty’s face burning in humiliation. It didn’t matter what happened, Rick always made him feel so damn childish.

“Oh yeah, look— look at you, Morty. Y-y-you think you’re so fucking adult now that some stupid bimbo played with your ding-dong. You think you can tell me what to do.”

“Shut up, Rick,” he said, the exhaustion seeping into his voice.

He refused to look down. He refused to give his grandpa that satisfaction. The little finger of Rick’s hand nearest to him grazed the edge of his bare foot, before sliding over to cover it. He couldn’t bring himself to kick it away, even as his face pulled into a deep scowl when Rick belched wetly.

Rick covered his hand with his face. “Fuck, I’m drunk.”

“Yeah, well, you’re always drunk.”

Morty set his forehead on his knees, before he turned his head to look in his grandfather’s direction. He couldn’t see his face, only the long lines of his body in the darkness. It wasn’t like he could make him leave. His whole body felt taught like a bow, his pulse flickering in his throat. 

Reluctantly, he laid back down. It was a tight fit, the two of them on his narrow bed, so he rolled onto his side with his back pressed to the wall once more. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Rick lying beside him, so close.

“Y-you have to be gone before Mom wakes up,” he said, quietly.

“Obviously. Idiot.”

They laid there in silence for awhile. His eyes started to feel heavy, and for awhile, Morty could almost pretend he wasn’t lying next to his grandfather. He turned his head ever so slightly, not enough for Rick to notice, he hoped. 

Rick wasn’t sleeping. He was just _there_ , staring at the ceiling, his face gone distant and serious in the way it often did when he thought Morty wasn’t paying attention. He wished Rick would just tell him what was going on inside. 

Frustration started to fill up the space in his chest. He sniffed, trying to hold back tears. He didn’t even know why he felt so helpless.

He could feel Rick shift beside him. Then, an arm nudged the gap under his neck, tugging him in. Squirming closer, Morty tucked himself against Rick’s side. Rick held him loosely, almost like he didn’t want to hold on, even as Morty tentatively settled his leg down over Rick’s thighs.

“You don’t have to be such a little bi _—euugh_ —tch about it.”

He scowled. Hypocrite.

“Yeah, well y-you—” His heart sunk. He went quiet, sniffling again. Rick was just going to laugh at him. “Nevermind.”

“Morty, come on. Out with it.”

“You— you didn’t— you didn’t really have to cry over me, did you?” His fingers crawled across Rick’s chest, settling over his heart. He wanted to punch through his ribcage, look inside, see if there was really one in there at all.

Rick held him closer. “Is that really the conversation you want to have right now, Morty?”

Morty stared at the opposite wall. He wanted to move away and never leave his grandfather’s arms, all at once.

“Are you mad at me b-because you think I don’t care about you, Rick?”

Rick pulled a face so disgusted that every wrinkle in his haggard, sagging face was emphasized twice-over. His fingernails dug into Morty’s shoulder through his thin t-shirt.

Morty winced, shying away from the touch. His voice pitched to a high whine. “Ow— h-hey, that hurts!”

He stopped. His hand dropped away, no longer holding onto him. 

Morty bit his lower lip. He pressed up onto one hand, looking down at the man he’d idolized, at one time. Time and experience had taken him down from that pedestal, but he was still a Morty, and Rick was still a Rick. His Rick.

“Y-you could have just said you missed me, Rick.”

Before he could second guess himself, he leaned down, pressing his mouth tightly to his grandfather’s for a fraction of a second. The kiss was sticky and wet against his own dry lips, but it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be. And he’d thought about it _a lot_.

He laid back down in his grandpa’s arms, somehow feeling like he’d won, for once. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Morty, huh?” Rick asked, quietly. “Do you have any fucking clue— any _idea_ what you’re getting yourself into?”

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Closing his eyes, Morty settled his head against his chest. His nerves felt like they were on fire, excited energy flowing through him. “Besides… you’re the only one that came looking for me. It’s gotta— I mean, that’s gotta count for something.”

He listened to Rick’s heartbeat. It seemed as steady as ever. Then, before he could even recognize what was happening, he was being rolled onto his back, his wrists gathered up into one long, spidery hand and pulled over his head. His legs were tangled in the blankets, Rick’s weight settling on top of him.

“Y-y-you shouldn’t get too full of yourself, Morty. You’re gonna get in over your head one of these— one of these days. You expect that I’m always be around to clean up your messes.”

“Rick,” Morty said, trying to twist out of his hold. He knew his grandpa was stronger than him, was meaner than him. When he stopped fighting it, his grip loosened enough that it wasn’t painful. “C-come on, I was just—”

He braced himself when Rick leaned down, crushing their mouths together. It was harsher this time, almost painful, and he whined as Rick’s hands dug into his wrists. He had no choice but to open his mouth, Rick’s tongue slipping in, tasting putrid and stale, like warm, watery booze.

Morty clenched his eyes shut. When he’d kissed his grandpa, he hadn’t meant for it to be like this. Well, he didn’t really know what it had meant, just that he didn’t want to look at his grandpa anymore and feel bad in a way he didn’t really understand. 

At least with Rick he didn’t have to lead. Despite the tension in his body, he felt his mind sink back like it sometimes did when things got too intense, and he was just laying there being kissed. Slowly, Rick’s hand slipped down his arms, until one was cupping the side of his face, tipping his chin upwards. 

It didn’t feel bad. Rick was rough, more dominating than he’d experienced. Rick _knew_ him, knew the real him, better than anyone else. Rick didn’t just want only the good parts. He was going to take every last piece of him until there was nothing left.

Rick pulled back, nuzzling his nose down the side of Morty’s face. His skin prickled with the sensation, and he had to bite his cheek, trying not to release an uncomfortable laugh. 

“You think you can just leave me, do you? Y-y-you think you’re so much better off without me.”

He stared up at the ceiling. Rick’s fingers dug into his chin, nails digging into his jaw. “Rick,” he mumbled, straining not to wince. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Rick’s breath was hot and haggard against his neck. Morty closed his eyes.

“Rick?”

After a moment, Rick nodded. His thumb gently grazed the corner of Morty’s mouth.

“I know, Morty. I know.”

Hands crept up his stomach, pushing up his shirt. Morty swallowed, reaching for the hem on his own. As soon as the shirt was up and off, he felt a strange sensation of deja vu. Like this had happened before. His body seemed to know it, his dick starting to thicken between his legs. He could feel his face going red as he laid back down, Rick’s hands framing the narrow shape of his ribcage.

He knew he shouldn’t want it. Still, there was this part of him that was desperate for any part of Rick’s attention, and he had more of it than he knew what to do with, now. Rick leaned down to kiss him again, and he met it with an eagerness he didn’t understand in himself, teeth clicking against teeth in his inexperience.

“Sorry,” he muttered, suddenly self-conscious. He hadn’t felt this way with Jacqueline, but he hadn’t really cared what she thought of him. “I don’t—”

“Jesus, Morty, relax,” Rick said against his mouth. His thumb was grazed across his cheek, so gentle it unsettled him. “You don’t need to— to practice your _moves_ or whatever on me. We both already know you’re gonna cream yourself the second I touch your dick anyway.”

He punctuated his words by rolling his hips into Morty’s, producing a choked out moan out of him. He let his head fall back against the pillow, clenching his eyes shut. “C-can you please not make fun of me when we’re doing this?”

Rick chuckled. “How am I supposed to _not_ make fun of you, not when you look so fuckin’— so fuckin’ cute like this, Morty.”

Morty put his hands over his face. Rick wasn’t supposed to say nice things to him. That just wasn’t fair. Knowing Rick, he probably didn’t even mean it, was just saying it to get him to do what he wanted. But it didn’t change the fact that it made him feel special.

Rick peeled his hands away from his face, kissing him sweetly on the mouth. His hand slid down his flank, hooking into his boxers. “Take these off too.”

He could’ve just taken them off himself, but he probably got something out of Morty being the one to do it. Obediently, he reached down with shaking hands, lifting his hips to slide them down and off. Rick helped pull the shorts off his ankles, and then he was embarrassingly naked, against his fully clothed grandfather. His cock was already achingly hard at the prospect of someone else touching him. He knew how sick it was, how wrong, but at least it was happening on his own terms. Mostly.

Rick sat back enough to look down at him, his eyes roaming his body salaciously. His hands slid lower, Morty’s stomach curling inward at the touch, his fingers grazing the curls around the base of his cock. “Not really a grower _or_ a shower, huh.”

“Rick, what did I j-just say!” he whined, the words forming into a squeak as Rick’s hand wrapped firmly around him. He pushed his hips up into the touch, wishing he would just disappear as Rick laughed at him, again. He wanted it to stop, so he reached up, grabbing for Rick’s arms. “Can’t you just— kiss me or something?”

“Who am I to deny my favorite grandson?”

The mention of their relationship made his insides twist, but it felt good when Rick took his mouth again, sliding his tongue in. Rick’s _favorite_. He kept those words repeating in his head as Rick started to move his hand, his cock starting to leak at the tip from the stimulation. He wanted so much more already, his hips straining into the touch.

Rick slid lower, dragging his teeth down his neck. Morty swallowed, nervous that he might leave marks. He didn’t want Mom to see and put two and two together. Mercifully, he didn’t use any pressure, but Morty couldn’t help but curl in as Rick’s mouth closed around a nipple. He never paid any attention to his chest, and wasn’t particularly sensitive there, but for some reason it made his skin tingle.

“Noooo,” he said, pathetically, grabbing for Rick’s hair. That only made Rick use teeth, bringing his fingers up to pinch at the other one. The stimulation felt weird, and he was laughing, his voice cracking into a moan as the hand on his cock tightened, a thumb pressing into the slit. “H-hey, that tickles!”

He pulled back, a strand of saliva dribbling down his chin. Morty looked down the length of his chest, his skin gone shiny from his grandfather’s attention. He was still hanging onto Rick’s hair, coarse and wiry in his hands. He didn’t let go as Rick moved lower, nuzzling at the line of his pubic hair down to his cock.

“This— this is happening,” he mumbled, staring down at his grandfather, where he had started pumping his cock. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, oh—”

“Not God, Morty. _Rick.”_

He didn’t give Morty the chance for retaliation as he took his cock into his mouth in one go. Morty could only keen in his throat, his back arching off the bed as he clung to Rick’s hair. His knees closed around Rick’s shoulders, trying to hold him in place, not wanting the sensation to stop. Jacqueline had done this for him, sure, but this was different.

It stopped. Rick pulled away, grabbing at Morty’s hands to draw them away. Morty panted as he stared down at him. “Wha—”

“Turn over.”

Morty’s eyes went wide. He came to the only logical conclusion possible: his grandpa was going to fuck him. A thrill shot through him, his cock twitching, drooling more fluid onto his stomach.

“Move already, dumb-dumb.”

Hesitantly, he turned, rolling onto his stomach. He shoved his pillow under his chest, staying up on his elbows. He wanted to be able to see what was going on behind him. “Rick,” he mumbled, needing some kind of reassurance. “I don’t—”

“Remember, Morty, you— you started this. You wanted this to happen.”

Rick’s hands slid down the curve of his lower back, before cupping the cheeks of his ass. His face felt warm again, but he couldn’t help but push his hips up into the touch, encouraging it. He _did_ want it. His cock was rock hard where it was uncomfortably pinned to the bed, it must have meant that he wanted it.

He couldn’t help but sigh as Rick massaged the muscle of his ass, just squeezing and touching in a way that almost felt soothing. Like the threat was gone. His pulse started again as Rick pushed at the back of his thigh, spreading his legs until he was forced up onto his knees. He kept his face down, his chest on the pillow, shaking in anticipation of what was about to come. 

Morty hid his face in his arms. He inhaled sharply as Rick’s palms settled on his ass, his thumbs slipping between the cheeks to pull him apart. He felt so utterly exposed. He stiffened as he felt warm breath fanning over his hole, before the wet pad of a thumb pressed against him. 

“Cute,” said Rick, behind him. “Wink it for me.”

Obedient, he clenched. “Yeah, that’s— fuck, that’s good. Good boy.” Rick chuckled breathlessly behind him, pressing the tip of his thumb inside, testing the resistance. He squeezed again, encouraged by the praise, his cock twitching again. Then, Rick was pulling away, his palms holding Morty’s ass open.

He wasn’t expecting it when Rick’s tongue slid up his crack, from balls to his tailbone. He gasped when hands pulled his hips back to rest against Rick’s face, that tongue pressing more insistently against his hole. Rick’s hands moved him back and forth, encouraging him to rock into it. Morty moved, until Rick’s tongue was fucking into him, his breath hot and muffled against his skin.

It felt so good. Dirty. He couldn’t even bring himself to be grossed out. Morty tried to quiet his moans, he didn’t want to wake up Mom or Summer, but it felt _so fucking good._ Even fucking Jacqueline hadn’t felt like this. As Rick’s hand reached around to touch his erection, he didn’t know how much longer he’d last.

“Rick, I— holy _shit_ —”

He whined as Rick pulled his mouth away, but didn’t let go of his cock, still steadily jerking him off. It’d felt so good. He just wanted to come already.

“Yeah, you’re right, little buddy,” said Rick. He hooked his chin over Morty’s shoulder, pressing his lanky body against his back, looking down where his bigger hand was wrapped around his cock. “Y-y-you’re being selfish. You’re not gonna let grandpa do aaaaall the work, are you?”

“What— what do you want me to do?” he said. He couldn’t help but grind his ass back against Rick, wanting some of that pressure. 

“Well, I’ve still got all my clo— _ough_ —thes on, for starters. Jesus, Morty, you don’t think about anything but your dick, do you?”

Morty frowned, sweating as he stared down at his cock still moving through Rick’s fisted hand. Even though he didn’t want to, he reached down to grip Rick’s wrist, pulling his hand away. Shuffling around awkwardly on his knees, he turned to face his grandfather. He wasn’t brave enough to look at his face, reaching instead for the hem of his sweater. 

He’d seen Rick naked enough that it wasn’t a novelty for him anymore. The fact that he was the one undressing him was a little different, but he mostly knew what to expect. Still, he’d never seen his grandfather hard. His mouth watered a little as he looked down at his grandfather’s cock, thick and heavy where it curved up against his thigh. It wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing thing he’d ever seen, his pubic hair scraggly, his balls sagging low. But Rick was big. Scarily big. 

Fully naked, Rick leaned back against the headboard, his legs sprawled out. He motioned Morty closer, up along his flank. Tentatively, he crept up next to his grandfather, beckoned closer for a kiss. Even though Rick’s mouth had just been in a rather unsanitary part of him, he still liked it. 

He felt a hand shift to the back of his neck. Pressure, pushing him downwards.

“Time for you to return the favor, Morty.”

Morty had never sucked a dick before. He wasn’t really sure what to do, and it must’ve showed, because Rick grabbed his hand and wrapped it around his dick. He could barely close his fingers around it. “Rick, I don’t— is this gonna fit?” he asked, desperately, even as Rick kept pushing his face toward it. It didn’t smell great, musky and, honestly, a little bit rank.

“It will, just— just do it.”

He didn’t sound as collected anymore. His hand pushed more insistently at the back of Morty’s neck. Morty opened his mouth, steeling his nerves, as he took his grandfather’s cock between his lips.

It tasted as bad as it smelled, like stale piss and sweat. He tried not to gag, closing his eyes instead, trying to do what he’d seen in porn. He didn’t get much of a chance, Rick moving him instead, helping him to bob his head.

“Yeah, Morty, just— just like that. Let grandpa fuck your mouth.”

Morty tried to relax, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked. Once he got a rhythm for it, it honestly wasn’t bad, even if his jaw started to ache from how wide he was holding it. It was worth it to feel Rick petting long strokes over his back, his other hand in his hair, holding his head down. Rick rarely touched him in ways that weren’t pushing or pulling him in one direction or another.

He pushed his ass up when Rick’s fingers slipped between his cheeks, a finger pressing against his hole. He was still slick with spit, and he couldn’t help but choke out a moan around Rick’s cock when he slid one inside to the second knuckle. 

“Fuck, Morty,” Rick said, over him, “All that smuggling I’ve had you do, and you’re still— you’ve got such a fuckin’ tight little ass.”

Morty winced as he felt another bump up against the first. It was too dry, so Rick pulled his fingers back to his mouth, sticking both of them in. He brought them back to Morty’s hole, and it was much smoother as he started to rock them in and out of him. It felt good, and Morty found himself rolling his hips back to take more of his grandfather’s fingers inside, even as he tried to hold his mouth open to be fucked.

His mind started to go quiet, it was just so easy to relax and let go, not think about it, when all of a sudden he was forced down, taking more of Rick’s cock than he was capable of. He gagged, trying to cry out, but just as quickly he was being dragged back by his hair to his knees. Rick’s fingers stayed deep inside him, as Rick pulled him into a messy kiss.

Morty was panting when Rick pulled him away. “Rick,” he said, like it was the only word he knew. His eyes were watering, and he was shaking, his cock aching hard between his legs.

“I know, baby. You want more.”

He found himself being manipulated onto his side facing the wall, one leg pulled up close to his chest. Rick had pulled his fingers out, and he felt strangely empty, almost missing it. He pressed his face into the bedspread, a little afraid, but there was no stopping his grandpa. Even if he didn’t want it, it was happening. All he could do was try to enjoy it.

Rick rustled around behind him. “Shit.”

He looked over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Forgot the lube. Mo— _oorugh_ —ty, w-w-what do you use to whack off?”

Morty’s face flushed. “Um… there’s some lotion in my nightstand.”

The drawer opened and closed, before he heard a cap open, the room suddenly scented vanilla. “This is Summer’s, isn’t it? Smells like her.”

“Y-yeah.”

There was a pause. “You ever think about your sister when you jerk off?”

Morty started to push up onto his hand, disgusted. “Rick! That’s— why would you—”

Rick shoved him back to the bed, before his hand slipped back down to spread Morty’s ass. “I’m just saying, Morty— you’re about to let your grandpa fuck you. I don’t think it’s too much to suggest you have ulterior motives in picking this bottle than its shea butter enrichment.”

“Just— don’t _talk_ about her when we’re— when this—” 

It overwhelmed him, all of a sudden, the gravity of what they were doing. He started breathing hard, his erection flagging somewhat, even as Rick pushed two fingers inside his hole. He started to whimper, before Rick was laying down behind him, kissing his shoulders and the back of his neck.

“Y-y-you wouldn’t do this to her, Rick— would you?” he asked. His vision went blurry with unshed tears.

“No, Morty.”

He pulled his fingers out, wiping them off on Morty’s thigh. Morty inhaled as he felt the blunt head of Rick’s cock pressing against the cleft of his ass. It was enough to know that Rick would never do this to his sister. He was at least special to Rick in that regard. He almost wanted to laugh at the irony.

All that came out was a groan as Rick started to push into him. It took a few tries, Rick opening him again with his fingers, before he finally started to take the head. “Goin’ in raw, just like you did, Morty,” said Rick, his voice rough against his ear. “Bear down against it, baby, yeah— yeah, that’s good.”

It hurt less than he anticipated, and Rick didn’t give him much time to adjust. He tried to do as Rick told him, pushing down against it, but he was practically shaking by the time Rick’s hips pressed against his ass. It was all the way in. He felt so full, like he was about to rip. 

“H-holy shit,” he mumbled. Rick’s hand snaked up his throat, turning his head until they he could kiss him sloppily. Morty could barely kiss back, just trying to catch his breath.

Experimentally, he squeezed around his grandfather’s cock. Pleasure rippled up his spine, his cock starting to twitch back to life where it had gone soft. Rick slid his hand down to his hip, starting to rock into him.

“You feel that, Morty? Y-y-you feel grandpa deep inside you?”

“Please don’t,” Morty gasped, “D-don’t say anything, Rick, please. I can’t— I can’t—”

“I can do whatever I want to you, Morty.”

He pushed Morty facedown into the bed, holding his wrists down beside his head as he started fucking into him, hard. All Morty could do was lay there, taking it, trying to keep himself quiet. He could hear Rick’s ragged breathing in his ear, could feel him everywhere around him, and he just wanted it to be over. He just wanted it all to be over. He didn’t want this anymore.

It felt like it was never going to end. He felt like he wasn’t even inside himself, like the two halves of him had spilt even without a machine. Morty laid there, his grandfather fucking into him, holding him down even though he wasn’t even fighting anymore. It didn’t matter how hard he fought, Rick was always going to take what he wanted. 

Eventually, Rick pulled out of him. He groaned at the loss, his hole swollen and open as he clenched around nothing. Rick’s hands went to his shoulder and hip, and he was manipulated onto his back. He resolutely stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to set eyes on his face.

Hands curled around his ankles, holding his legs up as Rick pushed his cock back into him. He went to cover his face, embarrassed at the stupid expression he must be making, but Rick slapped them away. 

“I wanna— I wanna see your face, Morty.” He stared down at him, almost unhinged. “L-l-look at me, baby.”

God, he wanted to die. He didn’t want to. He had to force himself to keep his eyes open, even as Rick’s hand went to his cock, working his fist over it tightly as he fucked into him.

He couldn’t help it. His body was reacting to it, the pressure building up inside of him, and he knew Rick wasn’t going to stop. It didn’t matter if he didn’t like it. None of it mattered.

“R-Rick,” he sputtered, his back arching off the bed. “I-I— oh, fuck, oh—”

“That’s it, Morty, come— come for grandpa.”

That did it. His vision started to go black as his orgasm hit, Rick leaned down, kissing him, swallowing up every noise out of his mouth. Rick didn’t stop fucking him, driving into him with a desperation that he didn’t want to think about. Morty just laid there and took it, as he struggled to quiet his mind.

Thankfully, it didn’t last much longer. His grandpa groaned into his mouth, and he could feel his cock pulsating inside of him. Morty laid there letting himself be kissed, struggling with his own desire to push Rick away.

Rick pushed up onto his hands, then sat back. He reached downward, easing his flaccid dick out of Morty’s hole. Morty winced as he felt fluid slide out of him, but Rick was covering it with his thumb, pushing it back in. 

“Keep me inside you, Morty,” he murmured. He leaned down to kiss him one last time. “You better keep me there forever.”

Morty almost laughed. He closed his eyes. What a joke. He would never be able to get rid of Rick. He’d left a permanent stain somewhere deep inside that he’d never be able to get clean. 

He tried to calm his breathing as Rick settled down beside him. It was quiet, for awhile. He found himself being pulled closer, until his shoulder was pressed into Rick’s bony sternum, a hand over his chest.

Laying there in his own sweat, his cum drying on his belly, the reality of what had happened started to set in. Morty covered his face with his hand.

“Rick?” he mumbled.

“Yeah, Morty?” Rick held him closer.

“You— you have to take this away from me, okay?” His voice cracked, his feelings choked up in his chest. “I don’t— I don’t want to remember— I don’t want to know this happened.”

He could feel Rick’s hesitation like a palpable thing. He knew Rick was capable of it. It would all depend on whether or not he _wanted_ to give Morty that reprieve. He took so much, but it was always only on Rick's terms.

Rick didn't say anything. His fingers dug into Morty's skin, like he didn't want to let go.

“Fine,” Rick said, finally.

He didn’t elaborate, and Morty didn’t want to look at him. When sleep came it was restless, and Rick was gone when he woke up.

* * *

Rick set the memory removal gun down, turning back to his equipment on the table. Morty slowly blinked, his eyes tracing the interior of the garage, disoriented the way he always was after this process. 

“Rick?” He squinted up at him. “What— were we just... talking about something?"

"Nope," said Rick, blandly. " _You_ were talking about something, and I was igno— _ourgh_ —ring you."

"Oh." Morty walked closer to stand next to him, stretching out, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of stomach that Rick absolutely did not look at. "So w-what are you working on?"

“Isn’t it time for you to go to school?” Rick asked dryly.

His grandson laughed. “Y-you actually want me to go to school?”

“I want you to get the fuck out of my garage, M _—oourgh_ —rty, you irritating little shit. Grandpa has— _urrrp_ — Grandpa has work to do.”

He seemed a little crestfallen. “Uh, sure, Rick. I’ll see you later?”

Rick turned, grunting vaguely in agreement.

Morty took off, leaving him alone in the garage. Rick reached into his lab coat for his flask, taking a good swallow. He reached to the gun, plucking loose the memory vial, before opening the hatch to his not-so-secret underground lab.

Walking into the room he’d created to house Morty’s memories, he took another deep pull on his flask, belching loudly. Letting his eyes wander among the brightly colored vials along the wall, he paced to the section he prized most, where he slid the memory into its place along the others. 

He fully intended to walk away. To not think about it. Still, his fingers grazed the vial labeled ‘virginity,' plucking it out of the case and turning it in his palm. It was the first of many of its kind that Morty had asked him to get rid of. It was the one that he always came back to.

Morty didn’t want to know. He would never have to remember who had him first.

He put the vial back among all the others, bringing the flask up to his lips. He lingered for only a moment longer, and then Rick walked out the door, the room going dark behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> 9/18/2017 - a little update to the ending to reflect some of the changes from the episode


End file.
